


Losing Farther, Losing Faster

by CreativeComplex



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood: Lost Days, The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: All Caste (DCU), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crossover, BAMF Jason Todd, BAMF Talia al Ghul, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Drowning, Food and Philosophy, Gen, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, How Do I Tag, I love these characters so I make them suffer, I think that's everything, Immortal Jason Todd, Jason Todd Gets A Hug, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Joker will die eventually, Lazarus Pit, Lazarus Pit Madness, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quynh might show up but idk, Ra's is a bastard, Serious Injuries, Temporary Character Death, The League of Assassins (DCU), Tim is there for like a second, but it may be a while, she's in a super rough situation and she's just trying to do right by her boys, these poor children have enough trauma for an immortal lifetime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:49:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25948366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeComplex/pseuds/CreativeComplex
Summary: When they get the first dreams, none of them can make sense of it: darkness, an enclosed space, the smell of earth and old, stale air. No useful clues or even meaningful stimuli to use in figuring out who they’re dreaming of or where they are. The dream remains similarly opaque for the first week, and the frustration grows as they come no closer to understanding. Nile, the most sensitive of the group, gets the impression of terror, and Joe hears a voice screaming a name: Bruce. The name, unfortunately, means nothing to any of them. All of them notice that the subject of the dreams suffocates a couple of times. They don’t really talk about it.((AKA Jason is one of the Old Guard and that's why he comes back, with the addition of Talia being a good mom and Jason meeting Damian in his time with the league, because I love that trope.))
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Nile Freeman, Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Ra's al Ghul, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Nile Freeman, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & the Old Guard, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Ra's al Ghul & Talia al Ghul, Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 60
Kudos: 457





	1. Blind Eyes Could Blaze

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched The Old Guard a few weeks ago and became Obsessed. Like, I-have-OCD-and-this-is-an-actual-literal-obsession Obsessed. And Jason is my child and I love him more than life itself, so when this idea wormed its way into my head and would not let go I didn't actually fight terribly hard before sitting down to write it. 
> 
> This has a plot, I swear, but a lot of it will be more character-focused than plot-focused. No idea how many chapters this will be yet and I will not be committing to any kind of posting schedule because I try not to promise what I can't achieve, but so far the muses have been kind, so if I'm lucky they'll continue sending me ideas. I can hope.
> 
> Sorry this chapter ended up being so short - it's more prologue than anything else, and later chapters should have a lot more substance to them.
> 
> WARNINGS for graphic depiction of clawing one's way out of the grave.
> 
> Work title is from the poem 'One Art,' by Elizabeth Bishop and chapter title is from 'Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night,' by Dylan Thomas.

When they get the first dreams, none of them can make sense of it: darkness, an enclosed space, the smell of earth and old, stale air. No useful clues or even meaningful stimuli to use in figuring out who they’re dreaming of or where they are. The dream remains similarly opaque for the first week, and the frustration grows as they come no closer to understanding. Nile, the most sensitive of the group, gets the impression of terror, and Joe hears a voice screaming a name: Bruce. The name, unfortunately, means nothing to any of them. All of them notice that the subject of the dreams suffocates a couple of times. They don’t really talk about it.

Nine days after the dreams begin, something changes. The new one begins to fight their way out of the space, taking off their belt and using it to scrape away at the wood above them. Joe is first to wake, quickly rousing the others as he begins whooping loudly. “Yes! They’re fighting! Come on baby, get out of there! Yeah!” Nicky smacks him with a pillow and Andy growls at him, but the sense of relief is palpable to them all.

Nine nights of screaming and darkness is enough to make anyone grateful for a change. And they’re all glad to see their newest member finding their fight. All of them are warriors, with the spirit to match, so there was no real doubt that the new one would have it too, but... well, it’s good to see, that’s all.

The next night, they finally get their first clues about who this person is, and where they are. There’s a sensation of fingernails being ripped from their nail beds, of bleeding fingers clawing through far too much dirt, of inhaling and trying to cough up the soil that enters their lungs, only for it to fill their mouth and nose and throat again, of pain and something else writhing in their guts and insects trying to force their way under their eyelids, and there’s the blessed sensation, at last, of cool air and rain on their hand. The rest of the body follows and they all feel themselves doubling over, vomiting dirt and worms and pine needles, coughing until the mud leaves their lungs before finally, finally looking up.

There’s a gravestone. Even through the film of tears brought on by vomiting, none of them can mistake it for anything less. The name on the stone reads _Jason Peter Todd._

\-------

A quick Google search is all that’s needed to find out who the boy is: adopted son of Gotham billionaire Bruce Wayne, - presumably the ‘Bruce’ they heard him calling for - former street rat, killed in a suspiciously vague accident with his birth mother while studying abroad in Ethiopia.

The grave will be in Gotham, then. Andy makes a face. “Always hated Gotham. It started mean and weird and only got meaner and weirder from there. Why do we even have another new one this quickly?”

Joe gives her a friendly shove and smiles. “It won’t be so bad. Come on, it’s like a field trip - I haven’t been to the Americas in almost a century.”

Nicky pipes up too. “Why do any of us have this gift at all? We don’t control when it starts or ends, Andy, you know that.”

Nile takes a moment to slip away from the group and pull out her phone. She keeps half an ear on the conversation and half an eye out in case any of the others come after her as she pulls up her conversation with Booker. She’s still not sure if any of the others know and don’t care or if she’s actually managed to keep it a secret, but she remains cautious in case it’s the latter. 

_Hey,_ she sends. _U get the dreams 2?_

The answer comes quickly. _Yeah. You guys gonna find him?_

_Thats the plan. Hes in Gotham, out in the US_

_Good. Be careful, though. Got a feeling something’s different about this one_

Huh. She’s not really sure what to think about that. After all, this is her first new one - up until now, she’s been the baby of the group. She has no frame of reference for what might be different, but Booker has at least a little bit of one. She resolves to keep her guard up. Just in case.

_Thanks Book. U take care of urself. Ill watch out for these idiots_

_I make no promises,_ he shoots back, and she shakes her head with a grin. She sobers after a moment. Right. 

Looks like she gets to be the responsible one.

Again.


	2. It moves / the way a sober shadow might

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia used to be fairly certain that her father had long since killed any motherly instincts she might once have had. All her life had been spent assuming emotion to be weakness and love for others practically a death sentence, and, well. That kind of thing gets to a woman after a while.
> 
> Damian had changed that, at least a little bit, coming into her life as a bright ray of hope and quickly being overshadowed by her father’s influence. By the time he was eighteen months old, Talia’s son had learned to never cry aloud, and Talia had learned that she still had room in her heart to carry more hate for her father. By the time he turned three, he knew precisely six ways to kill a person and that sword lessons were his least favorite thing, and Talia had found that she had room not only for hatred, but also for some amount of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeet, here's the first real chapter! I tried to have some actual substance here, not just introduction. Also, the voice of Talia al Ghul is terrifically fun to write, so be prepared for me to do a lot of stuff from her perspective. I love this woman so much. Chapter title is from 'Underground King,' by Derrick Harriell. 
> 
> WARNINGS: non-graphic child abuse, fairly graphic discussion of injury and funeral prep, nightmares and flashbacks, graphic description of climbing out of the grave, and stalking (it's Tim doing his tiny stalker thing).
> 
> Y'all's comments make me enormously happy, just so y'all know.

Talia used to be fairly certain that her father had long since killed any motherly instincts she might once have had. All her life had been spent assuming emotion to be weakness and love for others practically a death sentence, and, well. That kind of thing gets to a woman after a while.

Damian had changed that, at least a little bit, coming into her life as a bright ray of hope only to be quickly overshadowed by her father’s influence. By the time he was eighteen months old, Talia’s son had learned to never cry aloud, and Talia had learned that she still had room in her heart to carry more hate for her father. By the time he turned three, he knew precisely six ways to kill a person and that sword lessons were his least favorite thing, and Talia had found that she had room not only for hatred, but also for some amount of love.

Now she may be regretting that fact.

When she finds Jason, he’s dressed in the rags of his burial suit, and she can see the grave dirt on his skin, and he’s fighting three large men. He’s winning. He doesn’t need her help, at least not with the fight, but... Well, Talia may yet have a little more space in her heart.

She’s long had a fondness for the second Robin. Her father disapproved, finding him coarse and rough and rude, but despite appearances, Talia has always,  _ always _ had a mind of her own. She is quite capable of disagreeing with her father, and in this case, she does. There’s something  _ honest _ about Jason that she doesn’t even see in Bruce, let alone his other son. It has always been... refreshing.

Regardless, perhaps it is this fondness that prompts her choice, perhaps it is her recently-awakened motherly instincts, perhaps it is nothing to do with Jason, merely a way to impress her Beloved. Perhaps some of it is the curiosity about his mysterious resurrection that she tells her father it is, but she cannot truly convince herself of the same thing. Not when her father’s strict instruction to simply kill him again if no progress is made in finding the cause within six months makes anger boil beneath her skin, the same anger she feels when Damian’s swordmasters hurt him again and again and again as she sits by, unable to do anything yet...

No. It is not just curiosity. Not when she finds herself already altering her plans for Damian’s escape from the League to include Jason as well, and perhaps, with a luck she cannot truly believe she’ll actually have, even herself. Talia would like to go with them, when she finally manages to get them away from the smothering, looming spectre of her father. She would like, someday, to be free with both her boys, both her  _ sons _ . 

But if she can get both of them out, even if it leaves her behind? Well. That would be more than enough.

\-------

Jason is a little hazy for the first few days. By about a week after his resurrection, his cognitive functions are all back online, but his memories from that week are nearly non-existent. Nearly.

On day ten of his time with the League, he wakes up screaming. Talia is there moments later, offering soothing words and a gentle touch carding through his hair and stroking gently over his scalp, showing a tenderness he’s never really seen. Jason never knew Talia al Ghul before he... Before. Bruce always kept him as far away from anything to do with the League as possible. But he knew her as a formidable businesswoman and as one of the only people Bruce wasn’t sure he could beat in a fight. He knew her as one of those touchy subjects for Bruce, like his parents or Dick had been, the ones that he knew Bruce somehow saw as personal failures.

Bruce’s guilt complex has always been quite a thing to behold. Not terribly useful, though.

Anyway, Before, he would never have associated the idea of Talia with the concept of comfort. Now, though... he went looking for his mom once before and it got him k- it got him somewhere bad. He wonders if maybe he got lucky enough to find one anyway.

It takes a while for the residual fear from the nightmare to fade away enough that he can process what Talia is saying. She seems to notice the moment he does, though, and smiles at him gently. “Bad dream, habibi?”

Jason nods, letting out a shaky breath. “I-I think I remembered my resu-resurrection. Climbing out of my own - my own gr-grave.” He struggles against the growing sensation of tears filling his eyes, determined not to let them fall. “I couldn’t-” he makes a noise somewhere between a hiccup and a sob. “I couldn’t breathe. The dirt - and, and - when I got to the top I vo-vomited worms. And - and maggots.  _ G-d _ , Talia. I’ve never been so s-sca-scared in my  _ life _ . Not even - not even with the J-” His voice cuts off abruptly, throat closing on the name of the man who... He sidesteps it, lets himself avoid the word. “Not even with  _ him _ and that g-ddamned cro-crowbar, not even  _ then, _ Talia!” He’s silent for a moment, and his next words are quieter. “I remember I ripped all my nails out on the lid of the coffin and I remember something moving in my mouth, crawling, I remember my guts were full of maggots.” 

He’s not sure why he’s telling her this, really. She’s one of the deadliest people in the world, and here he is, spilling his guts while she plays with his hair. She hasn’t said anything since her original question, and he really shouldn’t be either. But she’s just... so gentle, and her eyes are kind, and he can’t keep all of this inside him. It’ll rot him worse than he was when he was underground. So he turns his face to look at her, really  _ look _ at her, searching her face for any hint of deceit. All he sees is a sad, resigned sort of kindness.

He takes a shuddering breath, and then another. Then he looks her in the eye and says in a very soft voice “I’m not supposed to be alive, Talia. Why am I alive?”

\-------

They find nothing. The grave, when they get there, has been carefully filled in again but otherwise undisturbed, as they learn when they dig down to find the splintered remains of the coffin. Well, at least they know they’re looking for the right boy.

But there’s no indication of where he might have gone. “Jason was once a street rat, wasn’t he?” Nicky asks the group. He’s greeted with groans of acknowledgement. That will certainly make things harder. 

Their next stop is Wayne Manor, which turns out to have a truly ridiculous level of security even for the home of a billionaire. They still bypass it just fine, but it takes work. Nicky climbs a tree on the grounds and settles in to watch for... he’s not exactly sure. Jason, obviously, if he shows up. Or people who don’t seem to belong, or strange deliveries, or anything else that might give them a clue about how much Wayne knows about his son’s condition.

The others leave him with supplies for a few days and one of the new, fancy communicators that hook right onto the ear as they go to search the rest of the city. It’s not going to be a terribly comfortable couple of days, but he’s not intending to spend the entire time in the tree, and he’s had worse.

The communicator keeps him up-to-date on what the rest of the group manages to find (nothing) and also allows him to speak with them as if they were there, which is, admittedly, nice. Joe happily chatters into all of their ears, and seems to delight in trying to make Nicky blush so badly Joe will  _ hear _ it, although after about a day and a half of that, Andy yells at him to shut up.

Watching Wayne Manor turns out to be... confusing. The first time he sees someone exit who he hadn’t seen enter, he thinks nothing of it - he hasn’t been here long, and it’s not particularly remarkable for someone to stay inside for a day or two. It’s when he sees someone exit the house one morning and then  _ exit again _ the next morning without ever seeing him enter in the time between that he begins to pay more attention.

It’s this extra focus that allows him to see the kid. Not Jason (too small and too pale), but interesting nonetheless. He never enters the manor grounds, but he comes close, peeking over the wall to take pictures, creeping around through the shadows as if he knows the place well, taking pains to remain unseen, but visibly excited to see the Waynes.

The word for this boy and his camera is  _ stalker _ , Nicky believes. He checks it with the others and Nile is happy to confirm that the behavior he describes is indeed stalking. When she asks him why it came up, he explains the situation, with emphasis on the boy’s age and skill. Nicky almost hadn’t seen him at all, which is quite an accomplishment for a kid who can’t be older than 11.

Unfortunately, as interesting and strange as the Waynes (and their stalker) may be, this isn’t telling them anything about Jason, and after three days Nicky runs out of water and rejoins the group.

The dreams aren’t helpful either - they learn that the boy is horrifically injured, experiencing his pain alongside him, which does probably explain why he stayed dead long enough to be buried. Nile points out that the boy is experiencing all the symptoms of a concussion, which handily explains why the dreams remain fuzzy and disjointed, but doesn’t actually make it any easier to tell where he is.

It takes another four days after Nicky returns for the dreams to give them anything useful at all. The boy’s vision begins to grow better, and as it does so, they catch sight of a woman’s face.

They wake to find Andy making a face like she’s tasted something sour. “Andy...” Nile starts hesitantly, but doesn’t seem to know where to go from there.

The older (much, much older) woman sighs. “The woman is Talia al Ghul. The daughter of the Demon.”

Nicky softly curses. That makes things a lot more complicated.


	3. Suffered, fell, 'rose, struggled fresh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s better, Talia decides, when the anger comes back. 
> 
> Talia al Ghul knows anger, knows it like she knows breathing, or killing. Talia lives anger, leashing it into something useful but knowing better than to try and tame it. It’s the mistake her father made with her: trying to tame her when if he’d simply given her a direction besides him to point her fury, she would have ripped apart the world for him. It’s the mistake her Beloved made with Jason: trying to teach him that anger was his enemy, that the very thing that had given him the will to keep going through the long, cold nights in the Alley was now useless, and worse, disappointing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm really fond of this chapter. It has more Talia being a good mom and a badass, it has worldbuilding that establishes some of how the Old Guard fit into this world alongside all the heroes from the DCU. It has angst and feels and even a little fluff and different kinds of family, and I just like it, okay? I really hope y'all like it too. Chapter title from 'To a Skull,' by Joshua Henry Jones, Jr.
> 
> WARNINGS: angst about immortality, brief but graphic depictions of violence and injury, discussion of Pit Madness, discussions of the effects of child abuse (Talia's backstory, not Jason's, because you can't tell me a woman raised by Ra's al Ghul doesn't have some issues), and frank discussion of murder.

At Andy’s proclamation, Joe’s eyes widen and then he lets off a long string of curses in an extinct dialect of Arabic. “I fucking  _ hate _ dealing with the al Ghuls,” he finishes. Andy can’t help but agree, although Talia is one of the most tolerable of the bunch. Even Nicky is glaring off to the side.

“Uh,” says Nile. “Could someone please fill me in here? You said something about demons and I’m not sure I’m ready to fight one of those.”

Andy’s lips twitch. “No actual demons, you don’t have to worry about  _ that _ .” The tiny smile fades quickly, though. This isn’t one of her favorite stories, but it needs to be told.  


“‘The Demon’s Head’ is the name used by the leader of the League of Assassins. They’re just as unpleasant as they sound, and he’s the worst of them. He was so different when he was young,” she begins, then falters, pauses to take a deep breath before she tries again. “Okay, from the beginning or none of this will make any fucking sense. 

“I first met the man who would become Ra’s al Ghul sometime around the 16th century. I trained him for a while. You have to understand, when I met him I saw... I saw a force that could change the world for the better. I saw passion and fire and kindness. As a student, he was good, very good, the best I’d had in... a long time. But he was always a little too interested in my immortality. 

“He stayed with me during training much longer than most in the hopes that he could figure out how it worked - it’s pretty common,” she adds at Nile’s wince, “but it usually doesn’t get as far as it did last time.” _Thankfully,_ she doesn't add. They don't need to know how scared she was when she thought she'd lost them.  


“Anyway, when he finally decided he wasn’t going to learn anything from me, he set off on a quest for his own immortality. Also not uncommon, no matter how stupid. But unlike most, he actually found something.

“Lazarus pits are holes in the ground full of green water that can heal all wounds, including old age, but come with the delightful side effect of making the user fucking crazy. It’s called Pit Madness and it... it isn’t pretty.” 

Memories flood in:  _ towns burning, the smell of smoke and bile and ash and death, a figure in the midst of it all, man-turned-beast with eyes so full of acid-green hate she almost stumbles in her charge, a broken body, bleeding and battered with a crushed ankle and an arm snapped in two places driven onward by the vicious spirit of the Pit, which has no regard for the safety of the body it happens to live in so long as that body can keep fighting, screams ripped from the thing that should have been a corpse, and death upon death upon  _ death.

She has too many memories. No one should remember all the things that Andy does.

She takes another deep breath. “I saw a good man in Ra’s al Ghul once.” She grimaces, and her next words taste foul in her mouth, so she spits them. “The Lazarus pit  _ ate that. _ ”

\-------

It’s better, Talia decides, when the anger comes back. 

Talia al Ghul knows anger, knows it like she knows breathing, or killing. Talia lives anger, leashing it into something useful but knowing better than to try and tame it. It’s the mistake her father made with her: trying to tame her when if he’d simply given her a direction besides himself to point her fury, she would have ripped apart the world, had he asked it of her. It’s the mistake her Beloved made with Jason: trying to teach him that anger was his enemy, that the very thing that had given him the will to keep going through the long, cold nights in the Alley was now useless, and worse, disappointing.

She wonders, sometimes, whether the fight that had led to Jason’s running away and subsequent death would have happened at all if Bruce hadn’t turned his disappointment on Jason every time the boy got angry.

It is not a mistake she intends to repeat, with Jason or with Damian.

And so, she finds herself relieved when the emotion in the boy morphs from grief and loss and quiet, broken pain to the all-too-familiar  _ anger _ she knows how to use. 

Jason got a second chance at life, and the first time he spoke to her after she brought him home, he asked her why. She tells him “there is a need in you, a hunger. One that has never been answered. You  _ needed _ so strongly that death couldn’t hold you.” She means  _ there is an anger in you. One that has never been sated. You raged so strongly you tore the walls of death apart. _

She means,  _ my son, you are stronger than iron. _

When he gets angry, she nurtures it, because if he is angry he is living, he is found and not lost, he is here and not dead, he is hers and not alone. The anger in her calls to the anger in him and the first time they spar, they come away from it laughing and bleeding and alive. 

She nurtures the other emotions too - Jason, she learns, has a powerful thirst for knowledge and a curiosity that could scorch the sky. The first time she shows him her library, he lights up and she sees, for the first time, the child who never got to be one in him. She makes a point of giving him a full hour every day to spend there as he pleases, and she has him start attending Damian’s language lessons as well. They begin work on Cantonese, and once again Jason impresses her with his devotion to learning.

Damian is delighted as well, although she notices with an ache in her chest that he tries valiantly not to show it. Already, her boy is learning not to be a person. She hates it, with an old, familiar hatred.

In general, Damian seems to adore Jason, demanding to see him when neither are training and shyly opening up to the casual way Jason throws around physical affection. The first time Jason tries to pick the four-year-old up, Damian punches him in the throat, but it doesn’t deter him (she’s not sure anything exists that can), and soon Damian begins to reciprocate.

The first time Talia sees her younger son initiate a hug, she wishes she could save the moment and live nothing else for the rest of her life. She settles for joining them, which she still often struggles to do, even in the safety of her own rooms.

It hurts, when Jason tells her he wants to leave. But then he explains why with the lopsided grin she’s already come to love, and she cannot deny it to him. (Particularly not since it could make her escape plans much easier.)

“I want to feel  _ safe _ , T,” he explains, shrugging as if it’s something to be embarrassed about. “I want to feel safe and I never will until I can protect myself from the people like  _ him. _ ” He shifts from foot to foot and takes a deep breath before continuing, “I want to kill him, Talia. I don’t think I’ll ever really be able to rest until I know he can’t come for me, until I know he can’t come for you or Damian.” 

His eyes are pleading and earnest and the relief when she simply replies “I understand. I believe I know where to send you first,” tells her that she’s making the right decision. It hurts, to stay behind while she sends her son away, but Talia is practiced at hiding her hurts and Jason needs this more than she needs him with her right now.

So she smiles at him when he leaves, and her eyes are dry. Then she turns around, all traces of softness gone, replaced by hard, unwavering resolve.

She has some work to do, if she means to get her sons away from here.

\-------

They take a few minutes to process what Andy's told them. Joe’s heard her talk about the al Ghuls and the League before, but usually it’s detached, businesslike, focused on the mission - because whenever they’ve dealt with the League before, it’s been on a mission. They deal with the League only in order to get in their way.

This time is different. This is personal.

“So,” Joe begins, shattering the tense silence. “Are we breaking into the League of Assassins HQ, or what?” He can’t say he’s going to be happy about it if they are, especially with Andy mortal now, but he’s sure as fuck not leaving the kid there alone.

The other look at him, Niccolo giving him the barest raise of an eyebrow that he knows, after nearly a millennium with this man, means he thinks Joe is being too flippant. He shrugs. “Look, I know this isn’t a little thing. I know the League is fucking dangerous, I know we can’t afford to rush into this, but do you think Jason can afford the time it takes for us to sit around and grieve for this guy? Yes, it’s a damn shame. Yes, it’s a waste of a perfectly good person. But we don’t have time to mourn the man who walked into that pit when Jason is dealing with the monster that walked out. We need a plan, and we need it quick.”

Fortunately, that seems to galvanize the others, and Niccolo shoots him a glance that says  _ sorry for doubting, thank you, love you, _ and Joe knows that the other man understands him when he gives a tiny shrug and a smile to say  _ I already forgave you, I love you too. _

Nile produces a map of Europe and Asia from somewhere, and Andy begins to mark every League base she can remember. Niccolo comes over to peer at the map as well, a thoughtful frown on his face. Joe comes over as well, and is able to contribute a few more locations, but it’s Niccolo who finds the answer they’re looking for.

“Nanda Parbat,” he says, pointing to an already-marked spot in the mountains of Tibet. “That’ll be their home.”

The room goes quiet. Andy’s face is unreadable. Niccolo has always been the one to see connections that they can't, the one who can zero in on the answer based on the data given. Even so, this is a big thing to trust him with. Finally Andy tips her head to the side, giving Niccolo a calculating look, and Joe is reminded why he’s glad she’s on their side. “You sure about that, Nicky?” she asks. The question is just that - a question. No hidden threat, no veiled meaning, she just wants to know if Nicky really is sure.  


He nods. Andy watches his face for a moment longer, then nods as well, decisive. “Nanda Parbat is our first stop, then. If we can’t find Jason, we look for Talia, and if we can’t find Talia, we look for information on where she is.” She thinks for a moment. “The League may still be culturally back in the 16th century, but they’ve embraced modern technology, so we’ll have to talk to Copley about how to handle the security tech. The guards should be easy enough - they’re good, but we’re better. Don’t get cocky, though. They’re good enough to give a real fight, and the League is fond of poisons. But we should be able to beat them so long as we stay cautious.”

She frowns. “Any of you have an idea about how to find blueprints for the base?” No one volunteers a solution. “Great, okay. We’ll figure it out once we get inside. I’ll talk to Copley. Joe, you get us transport. Nicky, once we’re there you’re on surveillance, figure out the guards’ schedule. Everything else, we’ll figure out when we get there, okay?” Nods all around this time. 

Nile looks like she has something to say, but she just shakes her head. Joe makes a mental note to ask her later, privately. First, he has transport to arrange.

Andy is more familiar with the League than he is, and she’s  _ Andy, _ so he’s willing to follow her lead here, even if he’s not necessarily thrilled about the prospect of storming the League of Assassins’ compound with next to no information. He’s been following Andy nearly as long as he’s been following Niccolo, and he’s not planning to stop now.

And it’s not like he’s going to just leave the kid there. He remembers the fear he felt the first time he came back to life, and more, he remembers the terror from the earliest dreams about Jason. And even if he didn’t feel for the kid, young and hurt and afraid, Joe would still come for him.

Him and Niccolo and Andy and Nile, and even Booker and lost, beloved Quynh, they look out for each other. They have to. This weird little family is all they’ve got.


	4. the kind that chase something in flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is not having the time of his life. Second life? Whatever. He’s not having a good time.
> 
> Learning has always been a passion of his, whether he’s learning how to find the dick jokes in Shakespeare or the exact right way to hit someone so they die on the spot. (It turns out there are a few of those, but that’s not what he’s learning right now.) He’s always loved unknowns to discover and new things to try.
> 
> So why is the All-Caste so damn hard to deal with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! A chapter! I'm kinda maybe super nervous about this one? Like, mostly I'm satisfied with it, but I've never actually read any of the canon stuff about the All-Caste, so I'm just kinda guessing based off other fics and hoping real hard. That's why everything about Jason's time there is going to be suuuuuuper vague. Fun times. If anyone knows the All-Caste characters or story arc well and feels something about my depiction is inaccurate, please let me know! I always want to improve. Also, this Jason has a supportive mom and has not yet been tossed in a Lazarus pit or been 'replaced,' so he's a lot less angry and somewhat less crazy than canon Jason.
> 
> WARNINGS: non-graphic violence, Jason's feelings about his death and Bruce's response, discussion of killing the Joker, PTSD things, non-graphic minor character death, referenced drug use and drug OD, and referenced terrible parenting (Sheila Haywood can go fuck herself.)
> 
> Chapter title is from 'My dad buried two dogs in the backyard:' by Barbara Fant.

Jason is not having the time of his life. Second life? Whatever. He’s not having a good time.

Learning has always been a passion of his, whether he’s learning how to find the dick jokes in Shakespeare or the exact right way to hit someone so they die on the spot. (It turns out there are a few of those, but that’s not what he’s working on right now.) He’s always loved unknowns to discover and new things to try.

So why is training with the All-Caste so damn hard to deal with?

Well, it could be that Ducra is a hard-ass. A terrifyingly competent hard-ass with such a strong tough-love attitude that Jason can’t even properly dislike her. It’s disrespectful, is what it is. Making him like her just by something stupid like being a good person. Disre-fucking-spectful.

It could also be the honesty. That part sucks. It turns out keeping himself together by lying to himself is ‘unhealthy’ and ‘not sustainable’ and other shit like that. Apparently it keeps him from ‘truly embracing his fear.’ Most of his training has been focused on understanding and acknowledging his own emotions. Ducra insists that he’ll never reach his full potential, never stop holding himself back if he can’t come to terms with the fact that sometimes he’s sad and angry and afraid, and the problem is, she’s probably right. She always is, and he hates it.  


Locking away his emotions is what Bruce does, and Jason has seen how that turned out. Dressing up as a bat and hitting crime in the face is not exactly the picture of mental health, and his relationships (with Dick mostly, but occasionally with Alfred and Selina and even Jason near the end, although he’d rather not think about that too hard) have suffered for it. 

Jason might be stupid enough to get himself killed, but he’s not stupid enough to think that trying to fix Gotham all by himself is a good idea. If he’s going to do this, if the Red Hood (because he wants to piss the J- the Jo-  _ him _ the fuck off) is going to do any good for the people he grew up with, he won’t be able to do it alone, and that means he can’t be destroying his relationships with the people who care enough to help him.

And if he’s being honest - ha, see? He totally can! - he’s pretty sure that the anger and sadness he’s felt since he learned that he remains unavenged (a full-body cast? Really, B? Not even paralysis to keep him from hurting anyone again, just some broken bones? The Jo-  _ he _ is still in better health than Jason was when he crawled out of his fucking grave, and Bruce calls himself  _ justice? _ ) are going to eat him alive if he can’t figure out how to deal with them.

He considered taking revenge on B, but it just seems... pointless. Empty. A gesture that wouldn’t achieve anything. (Admittedly, it had taken a serious lecture from Talia for him to realize it, but she had been right. He remembers her quoting some kind of proverb at him:  _ ‘when you set out on a quest for revenge, dig two graves.’ _ Sometimes he hates it when she's right, just as much as he hates it from Ducra.) After all, B had the opportunity to kill the clown. He could have, if the injuries reported are correct. B could have done it and the Jok-  _ he _ wouldn’t even have been able to fight back. He didn’t. That and Bruce’s words -  _ “he’s going to turn out just like his father, Alfred” _ \- before he left to find Sheila... well, if Bruce had ever cared, it’s pretty clear Jason fucked that particular chance up already. Revenge on B won’t make him feel better; he doesn’t want his da- _B_ to hurt. He only wants to matter enough that B would kill the Jok-  _ him _ , make Jason the last one the clown would ever hurt. And B’s already shown that he’s not willing to.

Now? He wants the man who killed him dead, by any means. Not for him - not mostly. He does want to feel safe, yes, he wants to know that his walking nightmare is no longer walking, but mostly, he wants it for Damian. For Talia. He wants to know his brother will never have to hear that laugh. He wants to know his mom (and that idea still feels strange, but in a good way) will never have to see the smile that haunts his dreams.

And for Gotham - real Gotham, not the idiots and smiling sharks he met at the Wayne galas, but the ordinary people with the strongest drive to live he’s ever seen. Gothamites fear the Joke- the Joke- the clown, and they fear the Scarecrow and they fear the Penguin. They live their lives afraid. But despite it all, they  _ live. _ Jason got his fighting spirit from the worst of Gotham, and yeah, it was awful. But he’s been given a chance here to  _ do _ something with that spirit. He means to make sure no kid ever has to learn it the way he did again.

_ Face your fear, don’t let it beat you, _ Gotham taught him, and that kept him alive, in that time, in that place. But it's a different time and a much different place - maybe it’s time to try something a little different. 

_ Embrace your fear and make it your strength, _ Ducra has told him. So Jason takes a very deep breath and lets it go. He takes another. And one more. And then, for the first time since he was killed, he says the name of the man who murdered him.

“I fear the Joker.” Ducra smiles at him. 

“That’s a start.”

\-------

Andy was right - the assassins are good, but no match for the immortals. Getting in is certainly not easy, but they make it nonetheless. They don’t have much time before the dead guards are discovered, so they move fast, searching for the areas of the compound that seem nicer, the kind of places that might be reserved for those of high rank - like, perhaps, the daughter of the Demon.

She still manages to surprise them.

They’re searching, quick and quiet, and then they turn around a corner and Joe is slammed against the wall with a sword at his throat. Nicky starts to move and the sword bites deeper into Joe’s neck. He pulls back.

Andy understands. She knows that decapitation ( _almost_ certainly) won’t actually keep him down, but it’s painful as all hell and the healing for something like that takes ages. She signals all three of them. Unless the woman with the sword actually hurts him, they’ll hold back. For now.

The woman turns to face Andy, obviously realizing that she’s the leader, but two can play that game, and Andy immediately recognizes the face of Talia al Ghul. Talia looks the group over and clearly decides that they’re most likely to understand English, since that’s what she speaks to them in. “Hello. I’m afraid I don’t recall us inviting any guests tonight, which means you came uninvited. You want something. Would you care to follow me? I can put on some tea and we can all sit down, unless you’d prefer to wait here until my remaining guards arrive. Or continue fighting. I’m not averse to fighting you all if I must, but I find that tea tends to make conversation so much easier. Don’t you?”

Joe mutters a rude comment in a dead language, but shrugs the tiniest bit, telling Andy it’s her call. Nicky does the same. Nile looks so confused that Andy gives up on getting a preference out of her. So it’s down to her. The choice really is pretty simple: they can talk here, with a sword at Joe’s neck, or they can go somewhere to sit down and have tea while they talk. “What the hell,” she decides. “Lead the way.”

Talia scrutinizes Andy for a moment more, clearly looking for signs that she’s lying, then nods, satisfied, then pulls away, sheathing her sword and turning to face the way they were going in one fluid movement. “Come along, then.” They go.

Soon, they’re seated in a beautiful room, decorated in green and brown and gold, with hints of orange here and there. A soft green and gold rug in a style that Andy is pretty sure stopped being popular a few centuries ago covers much of the floor, the rest being a dark wood. The chairs are a darker green, gathered on the rug around a low coffee table of the same wood as the floor. The walls are covered in genuine tapestries, mostly geometric patterns, but one depicting a sunrise, and are a soft, warm, golden yellow color beneath. In one corner is a small, two-burner stove, which Talia lights and places a teapot on, pulling several cups from a cabinet above. The room smells of jasmine and a sharper, darker spice, with just the faintest hint of smoke.

It’s lovely, but Andy sees no personal touches as she looks around, save one - a portrait hung on the wall. It’s done in graphite, the artist clearly unpracticed, but just as clearly talented. The portrait isn’t perfect, but it’s very clearly of Jason.

She’s pulled away from studying it by Talia’s return, along with teapot and teacups. The woman sets each cup before a member of the team, as well as one for herself, and pours carefully into each before setting it back on the stove. She sits, at last, and takes a sip of her own tea. 

There’s a long, considering moment. Then Talia smiles - although her smile could probably terrify a rabid wolverine - and nods towards Andy. “Well then. You want something. Would you like to tell me what it is, or shall I guess?” Andy sees the minuscule quirk of one eyebrow that means Nicky is amused.

Then she leans forward, placing her elbows on her knees, and takes her place as designated speaker for the group.

“We’re looking for a young man named Jason Todd.”

The woman in the chair looks at them coolly through Pit-green eyes. “I see. And you are...” she leaves the phrase hanging, suggesting the question rather than asking it.

“Not your problem and not your business,” Andy replies.

She’s instantly certain that’s a mistake, because Talia’s eyes narrow and her posture shifts to something... not quite aggressive, but certainly more alert. “I see,” she says, ice dripping from her words. “The group of highly trained, deadly fighters with the ability to enter Nanda Parbat undetected, who come in search of my son, are not my business?”

“Your son?” Joe intrudes, asking the question they were all thinking. “I thought his mother died with him in Ethiopia.” Andy winces, because yes, telling this woman that they know Jason has died before is absolutely going to make her so much less suspicious.

Talia catches it too, Andy can tell by the slight movement of her left eyebrow, but she doesn’t remark upon it. For just the barest moment, her gaze flickers to the portrait on the wall, before returning to the group of immortals. 

Her tone is still frigid, when she next speaks, but the anger is directed at least partially at another target. “Yes, his birth mother did, but considering the fact that she was the one who sold Jason out to the  _ thing _ that killed him in the first place, I find myself rather glad to be anyone else. The mother who raised him was lost to her addiction sometime after the death of his father, and overdosed when he was nine, so I’m rather grateful not to be her either, although she at least made an effort to take care of him. I am not his first nor second mother, but his mother I am, and I will tell you nothing about him until I know I can trust you.”

There is steel in her voice and in her eyes, and Andy doesn’t doubt a word.

She may be about to make a huge mistake. She may be about to tell a very dangerous woman a very dangerous secret. But Andy has seven millennia of experience reading people, and something about Talia suggests sincerity, at least in her love for Jason. That’s enough for Andy to be willing to play those odds. 

“Alright. This may be a long story.” Talia doesn’t seem bothered by this, continuing to watch Andy with a focused intensity that somehow makes Andy more confident about this choice. 

She glances quickly at her team, but they simply look back at her steadily. Nicky gives her a nod. _‘We trust you,’_ they're saying, and she's hearing them loud and clear.  


“Has your father ever told you any stories of Andromache the Scythian?” 


	5. Absence, Not Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia is unable to disguise the widening of her eyes when the woman in front of her speaks that name.
> 
> Her father has, in fact, told her a thing or two about Andromache of Scythia. He doesn't speak of her often, but it came up... well, now that she thinks about it, it came up when she brought Jason home. That can't be a coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! 'Tis another chapter! I still refuse to commit to any kind of posting schedule, but I do apologize for the long wait. This is pretty much nothing but Andy, Nile, and Talia sizing each other up. If that interests you, then here, have some words. I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> WARNINGS: technically self-harm but it's to prove that it'll heal, super brief mention of homelessness, non-graphic discussion of Jason's killing injuries.
> 
> Chapter title from 'Poem with No Children In It' by Claire Wahmanholm.

Talia is unable to disguise the widening of her eyes when the woman in front of her speaks that name.

Her father has, in fact, told her a thing or two about Andromache of Scythia. He doesn't speak of her often, but it came up... well, now that she thinks about it, it came up when she brought Jason home. That can't be a coincidence.

It's strange to hear the name from the lips of a stranger - someone with, as far as she can tell, no connection whatsoever to her father or the League. Her father has told her stories of the immortal warrior, yes, but never, to her knowledge, has he spoken of the woman to anyone else. He rarely shares his secrets at all, but when he does, it’s with the most trusted members of the League, which these people most decidedly are not.

Which means that this strange, mismatched group most likely did not hear of Andromache of Scythia from Ra's al Ghul. That, in turn, means that there are others out there who know (or used to know) the Eternal Warrior. And these people  _ could _ simply know someone who knows the stories, but it seems much more likely that they  _ are _ the ones who know the Scythian. Or perhaps... she  _ is _ supposed to never die, is she not?

Could the woman before Talia now be the Andromache of her father's stories? Unlikely, perhaps, but... not impossible. Something to keep in mind.

And Jason came to her after rising from the dead. The connection between Jason's resurrection and Andromache's reported immortality cannot be a coincidence either. 

These people could turn out to be very useful indeed.

Talia realizes with an internal start that she hasn't answered. "Yes, I have heard some few stories of the Eternal Warrior," she replies smoothly, watching the faces of the strangers for any clues. And -

_ There. _

Just the briefest flash of something in the eyes of the woman who asked the question, and a small, aborted movement from the other woman of the group, angling herself towards the first. It's not much, but it's enough for Talia to take a risk. (She seems to be doing that rather a lot, these days. It's not entirely a bad feeling.)  


"He does not often speak of you," she adds.

The way the woman - Andromache, she supposes - physically jerks in surprise is somewhat rewarding. 

As is Andromache's half-smile and nod of respect as she says "Not bad. I did always hear that you were the clever one of your family." Talia barely has time to wonder  _ where _ she heard such a thing before the woman reaches out a hand. "Call me Andy, Ms. al Ghul," she says, taking Talia's hand.

Talia does the only reasonable thing, and shakes it. "Andy..." she repeats, turning the name over in her mouth. "Then you must call me Talia.” They’re quiet for a moment, and Talia wonders whether she should ask Andy to prove who she is. After all, it’s a lot to believe. And yet, the woman didn’t actually begin by claiming to be Andromache, and the genuine shock when Talia identified her would suggest that she’s telling the truth...

Andy seems to recognize her indecision. “You need proof, huh?” Without waiting for an answer, she turns to one of her companions, the paler of the two men, and smirks. “Nicky, would you do the honors?” 

She faces Talia again as ‘Nicky’ pulls out a knife. He doesn’t seem hostile, but Talia is immediately on alert, taking a fraction of a second longer than she normally would to process it when Andy explains “I recently lost my immortality - it sounds convenient, I know, but it’s true. Nicky here is as undying as ever, though.” Nicky nods, and holds out his hand so Talia can see as he slices a shallow cut into the back of his hand. It’s closing almost before the blood begins to well up.

Talia blinks a few times. Thinks back to Andy’s reaction when Talia realized who she is. Combines it with this proof that at least one of this group is, if not immortal, certainly impervious to true damage. Weighs those against the absolute insanity of what they’re telling her.  Finds that the evidence is enough for her. 

She nods slowly. “For the time being, let’s say I believe you. Now," she adds somewhat more sharply, "please explain what you want with my son.”

“Well,” replies Andy with a shrug, “Jason’s one of us. He’s immortal.”

Talia abruptly sits back. That... does make sense. He did mysteriously come back from the dead, and more, she’s seen the rate at which he heals now. It’s faster than just about any healing factor she’s seen before. Now that she thinks of it, her father practically told her so. When she brought Jason home, he had said “If you don’t find a reason for his resurrection in six months, I want him removed from Nanda Parbat and I want you to stop trying to figure it out. If he is what I think he is - if he’s like the Scythian - then you won’t learn anything.” She hadn’t made the connection then, but now it seems obvious. Still...

“Alright. What does that have to do with you wanting to find him? He may be immortal for the same reasons, but that doesn’t particularly give you reason to care about him.”

The men and women facing her stare. She sees sincere, utter bafflement in their eyes, like it’s never occurred to them that just because Talia’s son is immortal, that doesn’t make him connected to them. Like they never even thought of not caring.

Talia knows better, though. Everyone has something they want. Nobody cares about another for no reason. They have an angle, and she knows it. She’s not giving them a scrap until she knows what it is.

\-------

Nile has been silent throughout the conversation. Interrogation. Whatever it is. She’s let Andy do the talking, despite the mistakes that seem obvious to her. She’s stood back and let the leader handle things.

Now, she decides that’s not enough. 

She lays a hand on Andy’s shoulder, feels the woman tense invisibly under her fingers as she falls silent and glances at Nile. Nile mouths  _ ‘let me,’ _ in the odd, fragmented language that the immortals have built out of their favorite parts of every other language they’ve encountered. No one else speaks it, making it a highly useful code, which is why they’ve been teaching it to Nile. Andy gives her a searching look, then nods.

Nile is glad. Andy’s a pretty good leader - better than she thinks she is, that’s for sure - but she’s not comfortable with mortal humans the way Nile is, and it bleeds into her conversations with them, creating a tangible gap that  _ really  _ doesn’t help when she’s trying to win someone’s trust. Andy doesn't quite think of herself as human anymore, Nile knows. She doesn't understand _how_ to be human anymore. And mortal humans may not know exactly what causes the feeling, but on some level they recognize it. They don't quite think of her as human either. None of that is good for delicate negotiations.  


“Our type of immortals have a connection,” Nile explains. “We dream of each other - I think it’s meant to bring us together, so we can keep each other safe. After all, nobody mortal can stick with us for longer than a lifetime. We need people who live as long as we do to be there for us. We’ve been dreaming of Jason, which is how we knew to come here.”

Talia is clearly studying her, so Nile feels justified in studying right back. Talia’s face is impassive, difficult to read, but the tension in her body speaks of distrust and confusion. She’s trying to decide whether to believe them.

“We only have the information the dreams give us, so we don’t actually know much about him,” she adds, only barely catching the flash of curiosity in Talia’s eyes. “We know he was a street kid in Gotham and got adopted by Bruce Wayne, and we know he had to have been horrifically injured for his healing to take so long, but we don’t know much else.” This is the right route, Nile can tell. Talia is being asked about her son, and no parent, even one as... non-traditional as Talia, can resist talking about their children. The admission of a weakness - their ignorance about Jason - also clearly makes her feel safer. “What we don’t know is how he  _ got _ that badly injured. The official story wouldn’t cause anything like what Jason had. We don’t know how he died, and we don’t really know what’s happened since. We don’t know where he is now, or where he’s been besides here. We don’t know how you became his mother.”

Nile lowers her voice, quiet as she goes for the final blow. “We want to, though. Will you tell us?”

Talia stares into Nile’s eyes like she’s trying to read her soul, and Nile lets her. She lets her honesty show in her eyes, her face, her posture. She doesn’t broadcast it, she just lets it be clear that everything she’s said is true. She’s got nothing to hide. 

Finally, after almost five full minutes, Talia sits back in her chair and takes a sip of her tea. She closes her eyes as she breathes in the scent. She exhales, and lets some of the wariness drain out of her. Then she opens her eyes and passes them slowly over the group once again. 

“Alright.” She says at last. “I will help you fill in the gaps, but I will need you to do something for me in return.”

Andy takes over the talking again. “What did you have in mind?”


	6. I do not sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is dreaming. 
> 
> He dreams of Talia, and Nanda Parbat. There is so much green. Green carpets. Green walls. Green hair that sparks a fear he can’t quite understand, here in the depths of the dream, but still makes his gut twist with dread. Green laughter. Green water where Talia had taken him once, not to bathe, but to help him understand what had made her the woman she is. Green in Talia’s eyes, piercing, like poisoned fire, but he remembers those eyes being kind, when she looked at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy with this chapter, so I hope y'all like it too. The muses have been kind today. First scene is Jason's first dream about the other immortals and Booker isn't there because he didn't fit in the flow of the dream, which I'm sad about, but the rest are there. Also, the last scene has some discussion of Bruce's parenting methods (which I believe are terrible, but they're terrible because Bruce is too bad at being a human to be a decent father, not because he doesn't care or he's not trying. He is. He's just bad at it). This is a pretty heavy chapter all around, especially after the last one, so be careful. I hope I make you feel things.
> 
> WARNINGS: being buried alive, graphic depiction of drowning, lots of talk about food (positive, but still be careful if you have ED problems), child malnutrition, grief, references to Jason's death, referenced decapitation, referenced murder.
> 
> Chapter title from 'Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep' by Mary Elizabeth Frye (probably), and if you haven't read it, you really should. It stands on its own really well, but it's also so incredibly JASON I sometimes wonder if it wasn't written just for him.

_ Jason is dreaming.  _

_ He dreams of Talia, and Nanda Parbat. There is so much green. Green carpets. Green walls. Green hair that sparks a fear he can’t quite understand, here in the depths of the dream, but still makes his gut twist with dread. Green laughter. Green water where Talia had taken him once, not to bathe, but to help him understand what had made her the woman she is. Green in Talia’s eyes, piercing, like poisoned fire, but he remembers those eyes being kind, when she looked at him.  _

_ In the dream, there is none of that kindness to be seen. Instead, there is wariness, and a group of people he doesn’t know. Two women and two men, all moving with the grace of the trained warrior, the coiled, leashed violence inherent to certain types of people. Dangerous people. _

_ And yet, they sit across a table from Talia, drinking tea, and make no move to harm her. He feels as if he knows them, but he cannot think from where. _

_ Reassured by this, Jason’s dream-self wanders out of the room, and he finds himself in the dark. He tries to turn around, to go back to Talia’s light and warmth, but he cannot move. The space around him presses in on every side, there is satin and wood above him and he smells earth and rot and old, stale death - he is in his coffin.  _

_ The realization is as sudden as the terror that comes with it. _

_ Did he ever really leave? Perhaps he dreamed everything else - Talia, Damian, Ducra, Essence, everything he thought had happened. Is he still stuck here? Why wouldn’t he be? Did he really think he could get away from death? He’s not supposed to be alive, and he’s sure the universe will enforce that somehow. Perhaps, by trapping him here, it is. _

_ Panicking now, he beats against the top of the coffin, and it gives more easily than he remembers it had (hadn’t?) before, but it is not earth that spills in this time. _

_ It is water. _

_ With a start, Jason realizes that the coffin is underwater, and he is not alone. It feels as though someone else is there, someone besides Jason, or perhaps as if Jason is someone else, like he is not who he remembers being. _

_ The person he might be now, the person in this wretched coffin so deep in the sea that all the light has fled, is screaming. No sound emerges from his - or her? - mouth, just bubbles, and the water takes advantage, crashes into her mouth and nose, forces its way into her lungs, makes her body yield to it as it has so very many times before. She is tired. She is tired, and she knows what this feels like but that has never made it hurt any less.  _

_ The body fights drowning harder than any other type of death, and still, even after being here for  _ centuries  _ (Something in her mind, the other presence that she knows is not really there, that knows it is not truly with her, is startled by this. She is not), it still hurts like the  _

_ very _

_ first _

_ time. _

_ She drowns. _

_ She drifts. _

_ She wakes and drowns again. _

_ And somewhere, halfway across the world, a boy named Jason wakes up screaming. _

\-------

Cooking is a type of magic.

Alfred has known this for years, understanding the beauty inherent in taking an assortment of ingredients that are inedible as they are and turning them into the very fuel that makes the body run. Cooking is transformation, food is necessary for life, and  _ oh, _ how it hurts to once again be the only person in the house who understands these truths.

Master Bruce has never once gone hungry - Alfred wouldn’t stand for it. He is glad that the man he privately thinks of as his son has never had to wonder where or when his next meal would come from, but it does mean that he often takes it for granted, and not as the blessing it is.

Master Dick is similar. He does not come from wealth, but he has never wanted for food, even if it wasn’t always quite as grand as what Alfred made for him once he came to the Manor. Still, as with Master Bruce, he doesn’t always remember to appreciate the fact that he has food to eat at all.

It is no moral failing in either of the Masters, but Alfred will admit that it was somewhat lonely being the only person in the Manor who appreciated food in every form it takes, without discrimination. The only one who understood the magic of cooking.

...  _ Is _ somewhat lonely, he supposes.

Master Jason, having been malnourished most of his young life, loved food. He loved the fancy dishes Alfred cooked for supper, he loved the simple sandwiches Alfred would assemble for lunch, he loved the hors d'oeuvres at the galas (although he hated the galas themselves), he loved the meals he would eat at high-class restaurants with Master Bruce, he loved the mid-patrol burger stops he would make with Batman, if it was food, Master Jason loved it just for that.

More so than anyone Alfred has ever called family (even purely within his own heart), Master Jason understood that food itself was a form of love. Alfred would give most anything to cook with the boy again.

But since that is not an option, even as that thought becomes a physical ache in his chest, Alfred rolls out the dough by himself, slices the vegetables alone, and puts together a meal that he hopes can sustain himself and Master Bruce for one more day. If Master Dick visits soon, perhaps Alfred will see him off with the leftovers when he has to go. And tomorrow, the work will begin again.

Alfred toils gladly in the kitchen to give his son and grandson the truest, most sincere form of love that he knows. He hopes, wherever Master Jason is, that he is well-fed.

\-------

“So you’re telling me,” Andy says, voice so cold it laughed at ice and gave it frostbite, “that a very rich man found a homeless orphan boy, brought him into his home with the promise of food and shelter, and then began training him into a perfect child soldier that he could throw at some of the cruelest, most dangerous people in the world. And then he was  _ surprised _ when the boy died horribly?”

Joe isn’t sure whether to weep for the pointless heartbreak of the situation, wince at the absolute fury behind Andy’s words, or laugh, because he agrees with her, and it’s good to have an Andy on your side. He settles, eventually, for closing his eyes and bowing his head a moment. He does not wish to mourn a living boy, but he will mourn for the lives that boy could have had.

Talia (who has been so incredibly unlike any al Ghul Joe has encountered before that he still thinks she’s probably lying to them) sighs and sets down her tea.

“I think it is more complicated than that,” she says, raising a hand to cut off Andy and Joe as they both begin to protest. “Kindly allow me to finish.” They fall silent.

“I think it is more complicated,” she begins again, “because Jason still loves him.” 

She takes a deep breath, seeming off balance for the first time in their conversation, and Joe feels the same. He expected her to make some sort of excuse for the man, and was prepared to be furious, but the objection is surprisingly thoughtful. It seems as if this entire conversation has been nothing but a long string of surprises. Some have been rather pleasant, like this one. Some, like Talia’s careful summary of Jason’s history - and Joe has seen and done many terrible things in his time, but what was done to this boy may be among the worst atrocities that he has ever known - have been crueler.

Why is it that they can have entire peaceful centuries and then all of a sudden everything happens at once? It hasn’t even been a year since the debacle with Merrick, and now they get this?

“Bruce is a very easy man to love,” Talia says, a strange, soft note in her voice that doesn’t quite make sense until she continues. “I called him Beloved once, and my younger son is also his by blood. I will admit that a part of me loves him still, and I have to fight to keep that from clouding my judgement where he is concerned.”

Privately, Joe thinks that her judgement may be more clouded than she thinks, as he takes in the minuscule tremor in her right pinky finger, the blankness of her face just a hair tighter than it was before - the things he is beginning to recognize as her ways of showing emotion. He thinks that this is probably far more vulnerable than most ever see the Daughter of the Demon, and wonders what they did to deserve it. Perhaps caring enough about Jason to grow angry on his behalf was enough.

“There have been, are, and will be many who love the man behind the cowl, and both Jason and myself fall among their ranks. Quite frankly,” she adds, tone growing nearly as frigid as Andy’s, “I would disregard my feelings for him and take his head off anyway for what he has done to my son, but Jason doesn’t want that.

“If Jason wished, I would bring him the heads of both Bruce and the clown.” Her eyes are sad, but her voice is hard when she speaks of the Joker, and Joe realizes that sometime in the course of the conversation, he has come to believe that she truly cares about this boy. He’s given little time to explore that thought. “Bruce has let that mad dog run wild for far too long, but Jason informed me that he wanted to put the thing down himself. That is why I sent him to the best teachers I could think of - to help him be ready for that confrontation. Although,” she muses, “I strongly suspect that you four could be quite helpful in that regard as well. 

“He also informed me that he doesn’t know what he wants from Bruce yet, but that he doesn’t think he wants him dead. Jason is my son, and I will stand beside him no matter what he chooses to do, but I will not kill a man on his behalf when he wants that man alive.” Her eyes cut to Andy, and the threat is mild but clear when she adds, “I am sure you will do the same.”

It doesn’t escape Joe’s notice that Andy told Talia about her newfound mortality earlier in the conversation. He’s just thinking that he could maybe get to like this woman when Niccolo speaks up. 

“We will. You are a good mother to him,” he says, and, well, Joe supposes that’s all that needs to be said about that. 

Niccolo clearly agrees, because he continues, “this task you wish us to do for you. What is it?” Nile nods from what has become her customary spot at Andy’s back, and Joe does as well. Andy hasn’t taken her eyes off of Talia.

Talia’s lips twitch minutely in what is clearly her equivalent of a wide smile. “I need to get both of my sons free from the influence of my father, and there is nowhere on this earth that I can go where he will not follow. 

“I need you to help me kill him.”

The four of them exchange looks. Their decision is swift and unanimous, delivered by Andy: “When do we start?”


	7. To Meet and Break and Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has been thinking about a lot of things. But mostly, he’s been thinking about the people in his dreams.
> 
> He’s had plenty of other stuff to think about, of course - it’s not like the All-Caste is giving him much time to lie around. Ducra has finally deemed him ready to start combat training, and it has been brutal. Essence is maybe a little bit terrifying, and definitely taking way too much glee in kicking his ass six ways to Sunday every time they spar. His bruises have bruises, and honestly? He loves it. It feels real. It feels like he’s there, like there’s no way he’s still in a warehouse with a clown above him, dreaming that somehow he got out even as the life leaves his body. When he’s sparring, he doesn’t ever wonder if he made this all up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, thank you all for waiting so patiently! I meant to post this earlier, but I just started school, and it's kicking my ass. Anyway, hi, here, have a chapter. It's mostly filler, but I still need to figure out how to murder Ra's, so instead of plot you get introspection and Nile and Booker being adorable for now. Hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> WARNINGS: borderline self-harm, super brief mention of alcoholism, murder, temporary character death, really vague suicidal thoughts if you squint.
> 
> Chapter title from 'For All We Have And Are' by Rudyard Kipling (who, by the way, was an even better poet than storyteller and you should totally check out his poetry.)

Jason has been thinking about a lot of things. But mostly, he’s been thinking about the people in his dreams.

He’s had plenty of other stuff to think about, of course - it’s not like the All-Caste is giving him much time to lie around. Ducra has finally deemed him ready to start combat training, and it has been  _ brutal. _ Essence is maybe a little bit terrifying, and definitely taking way too much glee in kicking his ass six ways to Sunday every time they spar. His bruises have bruises, and honestly? He loves it. It feels  _ real. _ It feels like he’s  _ there, _ like there’s no way he’s still in a warehouse with a clown above him, dreaming that somehow he got out even as the life leaves his body. When he’s sparring, he doesn’t ever wonder if he made this all up.

But he’s also required to spend a lot of his time meditating, and sometimes he’s instructed to clear his mind, but other times he’s instructed to think about some topic or other. He tries, he really fucking does, but every time, his thoughts will circle back to the dreams, which are starting to unsettle him more and more as the nights pass. 

They range from confusing to horrifying in nature. One night, he’ll see a middle-aged man with a beard drinking himself into oblivion (Jason would swear on his second life that there was a night where the man tipped his glass to the air and said “I hope you see this, kid. Hang in there, yeah?” before downing the whole thing in one gulp.)

Other nights, he’ll dream of a group of four strangers: one caucasian woman, tall with short hair, one black woman, younger than the first, with beautiful, complicated braids, one nondescript caucasian man with eyes that seem to see too much, and one middle eastern man, with dark hair and a beard. They seem to be looking for someone, and he’s had a few dreams where he even thought he heard Talia’s name, but he hasn’t seen her since his very first dream about these people.

And then there are the drowning dreams. He thought at first that maybe it was his brain trying to remember his resurrection, to process the fact that he had to climb out of his own damn grave, but the more times he has the dream, the more certain he becomes that something else is going on. He’s also becoming more certain that these dreams are more than just dreams.

Jason’s never been one to believe in the prophetic power of dreams or other similar bullshit, but he’s accepted a lot of crazy things recently. Maybe it’s time he starts to think about it. 

Or maybe he’s just going crazy. No way to tell.

His time with the All-Caste is coming to an end, though - Ducra hasn’t told him so, but he sees it in the way she looks at him, the way everyone here has been looking at him. He’s going to leave soon. Maybe when he gets back to Nanda Parbat, he’ll mention the dreams to Talia. Maybe not.

The only things he knows for sure about his plans for the future are that he’s going to kill the Joker, and then he’s going to stick around with Talia to see Damian grow up. After all, he can’t let her raise the kid all by herself; the poor boy would never grow a sense of humor.

And Jason always wanted a little brother.

\-------

Talia kills Nile before the immortals leave.

None of them are very happy about it, but she explains that her father has people watching her, and that if she doesn’t do something to make it seem like she scared them off, she’s going to be in some deep shit - and the four of them with her. Not that she said it in those words, but Nile can read between the lines, and whatever the lady said, what she meant was deep shit.

“My father's people are watching me whenever I leave my rooms. He'll know if I don't give some reason for letting you live, and he'll want to know why,” she explains.  


Joe lifts an eyebrow. “Paranoid, huh?”

Talia actually smirks at this, although she quickly lifts her teacup to hide it. “To be fair,” she points out from behind her cup, “I really am out to get him."

There's an astonished pause, and then Joe bursts out laughing, quickly followed by Nile and then by Nicky and Andy. They laugh longer than the joke really warrants, but Nile, at least, is about to die, so she'll take her laughs where they come, thanks.

Then, once they've sorted out plans for further contact, Talia kills her. She’s clearly very experienced with it, which surprises absolutely no one, but Nile’s actually kind of grateful, because this might be her least painful death to date. Joe tells her later that Talia made a big show of telling them loudly that they were only being granted her mercy so they could tell the world what happens to those who cross the al Ghuls. He seems impressed.

Nile is a little less impressed, if only because they decided she should do the dying this time around. Still, things seem to have worked out pretty well, and considering that most of them survived, Talia was much friendlier than Nile had been led to believe. 

They don’t get to see Jason yet, though. Talia said something about an ‘All-Caste’ and Andy groaned louder than Nile had ever heard from her and refused to explain anything more. “Yeah, he’ll leave when  _ she _ thinks he’s ready, and not a second before,” she said, and then refused to explain who this  _ ‘she’ _ was or how Andy knew her. Even Nicky and Joe seem a little baffled, but none of them have asked. (At least, Joe seems baffled. Nicky is still hard to read.)

When they get back to yet another ancient, weird safehouse, Nicky disappears into the kitchen with Joe following. Andy starts sharpening her weapons, which Nile is pretty sure is some kind of nervous habit for her, and Nile pulls out her phone and texts Booker.

She realizes with a pang of guilt that she hasn’t texted him at all over the last few weeks. Everything has been moving so fast - they came to find a boy and ended up promising to help assassinate one of the most dangerous people in the world. But through it all, she’s left Booker completely out of the loop. She winces a little.

_ ‘Hey, sorry about the radio silence,’ _ she eventually sends. He doesn’t answer. Just when she’s starting to get worried, though, her phone buzzes.

_ ‘It’s okay. You find him?’ _

Nile isn’t sure if he’s mad at her, but she figures the least she can do is explain what she’s been doing these past few weeks. 

_ ‘Not yet but we know where he is. Its a long story. Ill go outside and call u,’ _ she sends, after spending nearly five minutes trying to figure out how to tell him... well, everything. It’s been an interesting couple of weeks. He sends back a thumbs-up emoji, and after waiting another few minutes, Nile stands and announces her intention to take a walk. Andy gives her a long look, then shrugs, and Nicky and Joe seem otherwise occupied in the kitchen.

Once she has a bit of distance from the safehouse, she calls Booker, who picks up right away. “Nile,” he says in a voice so neutral she’s instantly sure he’s pissed. Whoops.

“Hey, Book,” she says slowly, letting some of her embarrassment show in her voice. “Listen, I’m really sorry about -”

He cuts her off. “I told you, it’s fine. Is everyone still alive?”

“Yeah, I mean - well, I died, but it was fine, she was really nice about it so - yeah. No one died for very long.”

There’s a long silence. Then, finally, Booker speaks again. “What.”

Yeah, that’s probably fair.

“Okay, uh, how ‘bout I start from the beginning?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” he replies mildly. So she does, starting with their initial research on this Jason kid and ending with them agreeing to help kill Ra’s al Ghul. Booker listens so quietly as she talks that Nile has to pause a few times just to check that he’s still there. There’s another long silence after she finishes the story, and then she hears a weird sound.

It takes a moment to realize that it’s Booker whistling, long and low, as distorted by the speakers of her phone. “Wow, that’s actually more batshit crazy than I had managed to imagine while I was trying to figure out where the hell you were.”

Nile laughs, relieved. From Booker, teasing is forgiveness. “I know, right? Anyway, I think we’ll actually get to meet him soon. Talia seems to think so, at least.”

She can practically hear him shaking his head in response. “Trusting Talia al Ghul, of all people. Jesus.”

A thought hits her. It’s risky, and he might just hang up on her, but if he accepts, somehow she thinks it’ll be just as good for him as it will be for the rest of the group. “Hey, Booker?”

“Yeah?”

“When this whole assassination plot goes ass-over-teakettle, can I... can I call you to save our butts? I’ll deal with the others if they try to give you shit, just-”

He cuts her off again, but it seems gentler this time. “Sure, Nile. Of course. I’m banished, not dead.” She’s pretty sure he didn’t mean for that to sound quite as mournful as it did, but she doesn’t comment. She doesn’t want to spook him.

“Thanks, man. Hey, did I tell you that Andy’s got allergies or something to the flowers around here? I think she's not used to that even being possible, but she’s been sneezing since we got within 20 miles of the safehouse and it’s hilarious. She sounds like an angry cat.”

Booker laughs, and just like that, they’re back in safe territory. “Seriously? Come on, you’ve got to get me a recording of that. I will bribe you with... I don't know, rare art or something. It sounds hilarious.” They talk for another hour about everything and nothing at all.


	8. How Dear Their Dwelling-Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they finally meet him, weeks after they began searching, Andy’s first thought is that Jason is older than he should be. His body is young, clearly still growing, since apparently malnutrition is something the immortality fixes too. His hands are too big for his arms, and his shoulders aren’t quite broad enough. His legs are disproportionate to his feet, and there are still traces of baby fat around his face, and Andy abruptly remembers that he’s fifteen. Fifteen. And already, somehow, when his eyes meet hers, they’re nearly as old as her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm alive! School hasn't killed me (yet). Anyway, have a chapter. This one is pretty long as chapters for this fic tend to go, which I hope is adequate compensation for the long wait. This is a really important chapter, character-wise, but plot isn't happening just yet, mostly because I'm still plotting the murder of Ra's al Ghul. Funny story, I wanted my brother's help with the plot, so I knocked on his door and said "you wanna help me plot a murder?" and he immediately jumped up and went "absolutely, who are we killing?" I love my brother. Anyway, plot will happen once I know how it goes.
> 
> WARNINGS: discussions of Jason's murder, somewhat graphic description of violence, mentioned Sheila Haywood, discussion of Jason's childhood, blink-and-you'll-miss-it implied child prostitution, graphic depiction of child abuse (League training is awful and Damian's childhood was a nightmare), and discussion of injuries.
> 
> Chapter title is from 'She Walks In Beauty' by Lord Byron (George Gordon).

When they finally meet him, weeks after they began searching, Andy’s first thought is that Jason is  _ older _ than he should be. His body is young, clearly still growing, since apparently malnutrition is something the immortality fixes too. His hands are too big for his arms, and his shoulders aren’t quite broad enough. His legs are disproportionate to his feet, and there are still traces of baby fat around his face, and Andy abruptly remembers that he’s  _ fifteen. _ Fifteen. And already, somehow, when his eyes meet hers, they’re nearly as old as her own.

Andy freezes like a deer in headlights, and for a moment, the world fades away, narrows down to his eyes locked on hers and her eyes locked on his. There is understanding, in that moment, and pain, and battered-but-breathing hope, and a weariness that goes deeper than the bones. Andy knows - she’s seen the inside of her bones, and it just makes her wearier still.

She realizes, with a lurch in her stomach, that Jason probably has too, and that’s enough for her to break. She turns away, drops his gaze long enough to put her mask back on, and smiles at him. It’s a small thing, and there is still that bitter weariness in it, but it’s as gentle as she knows how to be.

“Hi, Jason. I’m Andy. These idiots are Joe, Nicky, and Nile. We-”

“I dreamed about you,” he says abruptly. His voice doesn’t crack, but she can tell it isn’t mature yet. He tips his head to one side, like a bird, and the contradictions in his body language  _ scream _ at her - so young, so old, so angry, so loving, so broken and so very, very strong. “You were - you’re real?”

Nicky goes to say something, and Andy closes her mouth almost before she opens it. Nicky doesn’t speak often, but when he does, it’s worth listening to. “We are real. We’ve met your mother and we’re helping her with a project. And we are your family, if you’ll have us.”

Jason’s face grows hard, any walls weakened by surprise slamming back into place. “My mother, huh?” Andy abruptly remembers Talia’s words -  _ “she was the one who sold Jason out to the  _ thing _ that killed him” _ \- and winces.

“Talia,” she says quickly. “Talia al Ghul. We met her while looking for you.” 

Jason is hard to read. It seems at first as though he wears his heart on his sleeve, but Andy is becoming convinced that those careless, obvious emotions he throws around as if he doesn’t know how to conceal them are hiding something. It’s not surprising - this boy has had very few people he could trust, and sometimes the strongest defense is the one that makes you think you’ve already gotten past it. It feels as if this boy is made entirely of walls. No, not walls - edges. This boy began sharpening himself into a weapon when he was very young, and now he’s so sharp you can’t touch him without being cut. He’s sharp in every direction, Andy thinks, but she also wonders what he’s protecting under all those layers of defense.

Andy tries, but she can’t tell whether the shrug and the minute relaxation of his shoulders means that he’s actually any calmer. She can’t quite tell what the emotion behind his voice is when he says, “we can talk about that family bit, I guess. I gotta get back to Talia, though. You can come with if you want, but I’m goin’ anyway, so you better decide quick.” He begins to walk toward the car they took for the last leg of the journey, where he immediately pulls out the tools to pick the lock and hotwire the car, sending Joe running after him.

“Wait! Wait a few seconds, I’ll open the door, you don’t have to mess with the fucking ignition, okay?” Joe’s voice is loud, but more amused than anything else. Perhaps a bit startled. The boy shrugs again and steps back, making a sardonic sweep of his arm and a dip of his head as if he’s bowing and offering the door to another. 

Nile is the next to move, laughing as she goes. Before she gets out of earshot, Andy hears her mutter “what a little shit,” in a delighted tone of voice. 

Soon Andy and Nicky are standing alone. They’ll follow soon, but Andy wants Nicky’s opinion on the whole interaction. “He’s testing us,” Nicky says in response to her questioning look. “He wanted to see if we would come, but also how we’d react to him acting like he was going to steal the car. He wanted to know if we’d get angry, and how we’d respond to disrespect from someone we perceive as a child.” He pauses with a slight frown, considering. “We passed this one, but he will test us again. He will push until he finds a sensitive spot, and then press on it until someone snaps, so he can see what that looks like.” 

Then he smirks. “And if we don’t want them to leave without us, I believe we should get over there now.”

Andy waits a few seconds longer, thinking that over, shakes her head, and then follows her team  _ (most of her team) _ down to the car.

\-------

Jason is a little surprised by how  _ unsurprised _ he is that the people in his dreams are real. But if he’s really being honest with himself (and he knows Ducra would kick his ass if she found out he wasn’t), he almost expected this. He had expected it to come a little later, maybe, once he’d seen Talia and settled down and was ready for the next fight. He should have known better. Already, a lot of what happened during his time with the All-Caste feels distant. Not unreal, but somehow like another time, another era of his life. He feels like his life has picked back up right where it left off before he went to the Caste.

And now everything is moving so fast, and here he is, trapped in a fucking car with all of these strangers, - a minivan, so there’s space for everyone, but still - just because they said they know Talia. He hadn’t even asked them to prove it, he realizes. On the other hand, if they knew to call her his mother, that was probably proof enough. But still. He needs to be more careful or he’s going to get himself fucking killed. Or hurt, if he really can’t die. 

These people are dangerous, he knows that. For one thing, Talia doesn’t know many people who aren’t. For another, he saw how they moved before they got in the car, like warriors. Not the fluid grace that Talia has, or even that Bruce - he shakes his head, clearing  _ those _ thoughts away - but more like the way Jason himself moves. Economical, each movement calculated to use only exactly as much energy as it needs. No less, but also no more. People like that are weapons within their skins. So he watches them in the rearview mirrors when he’s able to draw his attention off the road. Watches, and learns.

The tall woman, Andy, she’d said, is the leader. They don’t say so or anything, but the rest of them angle themselves toward her without even realizing it, and that means she’s important. The Arab man with the beard and the nondescript guy who Jason probably wouldn't notice in a crowd are close. Really close. Probably dating or some shit, but definitely at least best friends. The second guy, the Caucasian one who’d said they’d be his ‘family,’ worries him. 

Jason is good at reading people. It’s a survival skill on the streets, knowing who might give you money if you beg, which assholes will pay you for running some goods across town or getting down on your knees and which ones will just kick you in the teeth when they’re done, who will pay fairly for whatever shit you can sell ‘em, who might be looking for information, who might be looking for a fight. So Jason is really fucking good at reading people, and he ain’t getting  _ shit  _ off this guy. That’s concerning.

The Black lady, the one who sounds American, now  _ she’s _ easy enough to read, and for some reason she seems worried about him. Jason frowns. They don’t need to worry for him - nobody does. He’s fine. On the other hand, if she’s worried for him that means she actually gives a shit what happens to him, for whatever reason. He can use that, if he needs to, and it’s kind of nice. 

He’s not sure what these people’s angle is, and until he figures it out, he can’t trust them. But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy having people who maybe-sorta-care about him for however long it lasts.

“So, kid,” says Andy, suddenly. Jason makes a noise of acknowledgement, even if he could have done without her calling him ‘kid.’ “What are your plans from here? You just left the All-Caste, they’re not the kind of people you train with just for the hell of it. What are you planning on needing those skills for?”

Well, that means they probably really do know Talia, if she told them where he was, and must get along with her. That’s good. He shrugs. 

“I was gonna pick a fight with Superman, actually,” he shoots back. “Then I was thinking about maybe picking a fight with the whole-ass Justice League. Might be fun, y’know?” 

There’s a long silence, and then the younger woman, Nile, bursts out laughing. “Shit, man, I’d pay to see Superman’s face if you said that to him.” 

Nicky smirks, then. “We could help you write him a letter about it. I bet he’d think it’s worth his attention if you mention you’re with the League of Shadows.” That’s interesting, that he calls it the League of Shadows. It’s an old name, one not used very often anymore. He files it away for later consideration. Andy is snorting and shaking her head in the back, but she’s smiling, and Joe is full-on grinning.

“Yeah,” he agrees enthusiastically. “You could just tell him you wanted to meet and discuss something, and then record his face when he sees who you are and you tell him you want to fight him - I’m with Nile, I’d pay to see that, even if you didn’t go through with the fight, and I’d pay more to see how it’d actually go. I’ll help out if you really want to do that, it sounds like more fun than I’ve had in decades.” Decades, huh? He’s either much older than he looks, or he’s had a real shit life.

And Jason can’t help it - he grins back. “Nah, probably not Supes. At least not right away. But I’m definitely gonna be picking some fights.”

Joe whoops, and pats Jason on the shoulder. “There you go, now you're speaking my language. We can totally help - with picking a fight or ending one. We’re flexible that way.” 

There’s a long-suffering sigh from Andy, who buries her face in her hands and groans. 

“Great. Now there’s two of them.”

\-------

Damian is training when Jason gets home. His teacher wants him to work on his stamina, and has been sending fighter after fighter against him, unceasing, merciless. He’s tired, but he must push past it. He has to be good enough. He is the heir to the house of al Ghul. He must be strong.

So he keeps fighting. He keeps fighting through the tremors in his arms, the way they dip under the weight of the practice sword, the way gravity seems to have grown stronger, the way he hurts from head to toe. Keeps fighting until the world narrows down to just him and his opponent. Keeps fighting until he can hardly see through the sweat and blood dripping into his eyes. Keeps fighting until he feels himself stumble, and only just recovers before his opponent’s sword connects with his head. Keeps fighting even after, keeps fighting because he  _ must not fail. _

He almost cries with relief when a messenger arrives to say that Mother wants him to come to her chambers, but doesn’t. He won’t show weakness. He’s better than that. His teacher nods at him as he wipes down his face and gulps some water. “A good beginning. Tomorrow, you will do better.” Damian bows, and stumbles out of the room.

He’s not even halfway to Mother’s chambers when a familiar figure rounds a corner and grins. Jason rushes forward, scooping Damian into his arms, and he decides to allow it. Just this once. His older... well, Jason spins around, hugging him tight. “I missed you kiddo. How have you been? Have you been painting? What about your lessons? Has anything interesting happened while I was gone?”

Damian smiles, although he’s a little too tired to laugh. He’s still not certain how he feels about Mother calling the older boy his brother, but he has to admit that the idea is growing on him.

Especially when Jason finally really  _ looks _ at him and frowns, eyes growing angry. “Who did this? Was this part of your training?” When Damian nods, Jason’s expression grows even stormier. “Who’s your teacher? I think I need to have a chat with them.” And Damian knows that he’s not supposed to argue with his teachers or their methods, but, well, is it really  _ his _ fault if Jason does something about it? It’s not like Damian  _ told _ him to. And it feels nice, to have someone besides Mother willing to fight for him. So he answers truthfully and hugs Jason back before demanding to be put down.

“I understand you are excited to see me, but I am an al Ghul. I will stand on my own feet.” Jason almost looks sad for a moment, although Damian doesn’t really understand why, but the older boy puts him down and ruffles his sweat-soaked hair.

“C’mon, kiddo, there’s some people I want you to meet, but first let’s get you into a bath.” Since that sounds like an excellent idea, Damian nods, and follows Jason towards his own rooms, inviting his… Jason in when they get there. Jason grins at him.

“You get into the bath, kiddo. I’ll get the med kit and a book and once we’re done getting you clean and all your wounds treated,” - here his expression grows angry again, but only for a moment - “I’ll read to you. Sound good?”

It does, but - “what about Mother? She wanted to see me.”

“I’ll send a guard to tell her to bring the party here, instead.” Jason’s way of speaking is odd sometimes, but Damian understands this particular expression. He nods.

Jason grins again. “Into the tub with you, get,” he says, making playful shoo-ing motions with his hands. Damian doesn’t bother arguing, just strips quickly, getting into the tub and beginning to run the water. He smiles as he hears the sounds of Jason moving around outside the bathroom. He hears low voices and Jason speaks with a guard, and then Jason’s steps - which he must be leaving loud as a courtesy, since Damian knows that Jason can move more quietly than even himself - over to the side of his room with the bookshelf.

Soon enough, Jason returns, pulling the medicinal supplies from their spot beside the sink. “Doesn’t look too awful, but you got some nasty bruising, and a few cuts here and there. Nothing needing stitches, but I should check you for a concussion. You mostly need water and rest.” 

His voice is soft, gentle, and Damian allows himself the rare luxury of lowering his guard. Jason - his br - Jason is here. He’s safe. Even when he hears voices from outside - his mother and some others - he doesn’t worry. His mother told him that Jason was safe, so he knows it’s true. It vaguely crosses his mind that he needs to stay awake, that his mother wished to speak with him, but... he’s tired, and Jason told him he needed to rest.

Damian falls asleep with his brother’s gentle hands in his hair and his brother’s gentle voice in his ear, and he doesn’t dream at all.


	9. to know his own at last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, they all end up settled in Talia’s quarters in a strange sort of mirror to her first meeting with the four half-strangers, complete with tea. Jason keeps looking between the immortals and Talia herself, as if he’s trying to figure something out, but eventually he gives up on learning anything more from silence.
> 
> “So...” he starts cautiously, “I’ve got some questions. A lot of them, actually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers, I have emerged from the wilds beyond to bring you this chapter! That's right, I'm still writing this fic, and here's some more of it! I apologize sincerely for the long wait - there were reasons, but some of them could potentially be triggering, so they're in the other notes, at the bottom of the chapter. Anyways, here, have some fic. Happy Channukah, Merry Christmas, Happy Yule, Happy Festivus, Happy Kwanzaa, or happy whatever winter holiday you celebrate. (Or just happy Friday, if you don't celebrate anything, but if that's the case then you're missing out on a good excuse to eat good food and spend time with family, which sounds like a waste). Happy Holidays, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> WARNINGS:implied violence, implied/referenced child physical abuse, hypervigilance and/or paranoia, implied/referenced child homelessness, grief, super brief implied/referenced underage drinking, and immortal angst. (SO MUCH immortal angst).
> 
> Chapter title from "I would I might Forget that I am I," by George Santayana.

When Talia and the immortals walk into the room, her youngest son is passed out in the bathtub, and her oldest is sitting next to him, closing the book he was reading from as they file in. She raises an eyebrow. “Habibi? What happened to telling him about all this?”

Jason doesn’t frown, but a flicker of absolute  _ rage _ crosses his face, there and gone in the barest of moments. If she didn’t know him so well, she wouldn’t have noticed. “Yeah, that went out the window when I found him in the hallway beat to hell and too tired to even argue about me picking him up. I think I need to have a  _ conversation _ with one of his trainers.” 

Talia withholds a smile - there are eyes everywhere, after all - but she’s glad Jason was the one to find out about this. She cannot intervene in her son’s training without drawing the attention of her father, something she can’t afford under normal circumstances, let alone right now.  _ Jason, _ on the other hand _... _ Well, everyone here already sees Jason as an outsider, an anomaly. It wouldn’t seem out of place for him to step in, and he’s subtle enough to make it seem unrelated to Damian or his training, keeping the odds of such a thing reaching her father relatively low. She remembers Damian, three years old and covered in bruises given to him by his tutor in swordsmanship, telling her that sword lessons were awful. He was so young that he couldn’t quite get the  _ l _ sound right, but he was, according to her father, old enough to begin learning how to kill. She remembers, and a tiny curl of satisfaction settles deep in her chest.

“I see,” is all she says, but she knows Jason understands.

He shrugs, a little bit uncomfortably - she’s learned that despite his constant bravado, he’s deeply uncomfortable with compliments - then grins brightly. “It’s no problem. Besides, I’ve got a few questions about your new friends that wouldn’t hurt to ask without the kiddo, since we’ve got the chance.”

The one they call Nicky waves from where the immortals are standing, slightly awkwardly, just outside the bathroom. “We are happy to answer questions.” Joe and Nile nod, and Andromache gives a brief upwards tilt of her chin that means the same thing. 

Jason’s rapid “you’d better be” does little to disguise the anxious drumming of his fingers on his knee, but Talia is the only one who can see it anyway. He reaches gently into the tub and scoops a dripping Damian out, gesturing for her to help towel him off, which she does without complaint. Once her younger son is mostly dry and wrapped in a towel - still sleeping like the dead - Jason lifts him and they both walk out into the main section of Damian’s room, where their new allies are waiting.

The young woman with the braids smiles when she sees the sleeping boy. Talia supposes that he is rather cute like this. It’s not something she thinks about often. She loves him, of course she does, but quite honestly, ‘cute’ is not often a concept the Daughter of the Demon has time for.  _ Talia, _ though, might get the chance to consider it soon enough, if all goes well.

Jason deposits his brother gently on the bed and tucks him in, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face before turning to face the rest of the room. He brings his finger to his lips, tilting his head towards Damian’s sleeping form, then points at the door.

Eventually, they all end up settled in Talia’s quarters in a strange sort of mirror to her first meeting with the four half-strangers, complete with tea. Jason keeps looking between the immortals and Talia herself, as if he’s trying to figure something out, but eventually he gives up on learning anything more from silence.

“So...” he starts cautiously, “I’ve got some questions. A lot of them, actually.”

\-------

When Jason opens up the topic of questions, Nile lays a hand on Andy’s shoulder and squeezes gently.  _ I’ve got this, _ she tries to say.  _ I’ll take point on this one. _ Fortunately, Andy seems to get it, and Nile feels her relax just a fraction under her hand.

She turns her attention back to Jason, whose sharp gaze says he probably caught every second of that little interaction. “That’s fair, yeah. I had a shit ton of questions at this point, too. Where did you wanna start?”

He tips his head to one side. “Let’s start with why you’re in my dreams,” he says carefully.

“Okay, yeah, so. You may have noticed at this point that you’re immortal.” He snorts at that, which she's totally counting as a win. “We’re immortal too. Well, Andy used to be, but - well, anyway, we heal really fast and we don’t stay dead, right? Whatever causes it wears off or ends or something eventually and no one knows why or when, which is what happened to Andy, but other than that, we’re basically immortal.”

Nicky smiles a little bit and says, soft as ever, “everything dies eventually. We just haven’t reached our time yet.” Nile nods at him. 

“Yeah, that. So anyway, there’s different types of immortality, I guess. I don’t know all of them, but our specific type seems to want us to stick together. That’s why the dreams happen. We dream of each other until we meet. Maybe it’s fate or something, maybe we’re supposed to look after each other,” - she hears Booker’s voice whisper  _ misery loves company, _ but doesn’t repeat it - “I dunno, but that’s how it works. We’ve been dreaming of you, too.”

Jason nods, and she sees him turning the idea over in his mind, examining it from different angles, even while his eyes stay focused and alert, regularly scanning the room for danger. Jesus, this kid is paranoid. Maybe dying the way he did does that to a person - she’d really rather not find out. Eventually, he nods again. “Okay. How do you know my mom?”

Nile shrugs. “We saw her in our dreams of you and Andy recognized her, so we showed up to find you.”

Joe grins and breaks in. “Technically we showed up to save you - our past dealings with the al Ghuls haven’t been great and we thought we might need to break you out. Your mom disabused us of that idea  _ real _ quick.” Nile sees Talia’s eyes narrow thoughtfully, but the other woman says nothing. Jason looks like he’s carefully refraining from rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, thanks, but I’ll pass. So, you’ve found me, congratulations. What now?” His voice stays casual, but Nile hears what he’s really saying -  _ what do you want from me?  _ She remembers his history as a street rat, and look, she grew up on the South side of Chicago. She got lucky enough to have a roof over her head throughout her childhood, but she knew enough kids who didn’t to learn the rules they live by: everything has a price. Everybody’s got an angle. This is the most important question he’s asked them. This is really the only answer that matters. 

And the thing is, Nile doesn’t know. She’s handled the questions so far, since she’s the most like Jason in a lot of ways, but she’s not the leader. Someday, maybe, when they lose Andy - she knows that Andy wants it to be her, remembers  _ if this doesn’t work out, next time, you go first _ \- but not now. Not now, and not for a while, because if Andy dies on them anytime soon, Nile is going to kick her ass. So right now, this is still Andy’s question to answer, and none of them have to say it, but they turn to her.

So it’s Andy who smirks and says, “well, first I was thinking we could pick a fight with Superman...”

\-------

Jason laughs. The sound makes Andy feel strangely light. It’s the familiarity, she thinks, that age to match her own in his eyes. This boy has seen more suffering than can fit in a single human lifetime, his eyes know pain the way Andy herself knows it, and if he can laugh, maybe someday she’ll find herself able to as well. Maybe. (She can't remember how long it's been since she laughed that freely - no, that's a lie. She remembers. Has been counting the seconds, minutes, hours, days, _centuries_ since the moment she had her laughter stolen from her and cast into the sea to _drown.)_ For Andy to laugh again would take a miracle. And she only has a few years left to wait for a miracle to find her. So she supposes she'll have to listen to Jason's laughter and content herself with that.  


Still, as nice as it is teasing the kid, she really does owe him some straight answers, so she smirks at him, but her face falls quickly back to neutral. “Seriously though, we’re not picking a fight with Big Blue. Just with your new grandpa.”

(Absently, Andy notices Talia’s hands tighten on her cup of tea, eyes flickering briefly to the guard outside her room, but speaking the words out loud was a calculated risk, and it’s not like Andy can take them back now. If she’s asked about it, Talia can always claim that she’s pretending to go along with them to gather information about their plans. Andy’s not planning on going into details here in the heart of the al Ghul empire, but she makes a point of being honest with her team. Jason is part of her team now in every way that matters.)

There’s a moment where she can see his mind turning, picking through the carefully vague words in search of what she’s actually saying, and his eyes widen as he realizes what she must mean. The look Jason gives her is incredulous, (and mildly offended, probably at the insinuation that Ra's could be counted amongst his family, now), but there’s something considering there too. He glances at Talia, and they have some sort of silent conversation with their eyes. Eventually, Jason sighs, leaning back in his chair and seeming to relax for the first time since he met Andy and her team. “Right. Well, I’m gonna need a lot more alcohol for that conversation, and it’s way too early in the day for that.” Talia gives him a sharp look that he returns for barely a moment before ducking his head and muttering a mostly inaudible apology. 

Andy resists the urge to laugh at the kid’s chastised expression - if she does, she’s going to be hard-pressed not to end up crying. He’s so damn  _ young, _ is the thing.  _ So _ damn young. The familiar exhaustion that has haunted most of her life, coming and going but never truly leaving, hits her like an axe blow, and she exhales sharply. Every person in the room catches it -  _ dammit _ \- and Nicky shifts, pulling away from the wall he’s been leaning against. “The rest of this conversation should be had somewhere more private, I think. When can you two leave here without raising suspicions?”

Talia glances at Jason, who inclines his head her way. She smirks as she turns back to Andy. “Well, my father knows I’ve been sending Jason to train with the first of many people. I did personally deliver him to the All-Caste - should I not do the same with his new teachers?”

There’s a short silence, and then Joe laughs. “Well, of course. Wouldn’t do for your pet project to get lost or something. We’ve got a friend we can talk to about falsifying a history-” Talia cuts him off with a raised hand.

“Nonsense. It’s no trouble for me to handle such things, and I believe I’ll be able to provide somewhat more credible documentation than your former-CIA friend, skilled though he may be.” Andy doesn’t bother to be surprised that Talia knows about Copley. The Demon’s Daughter strikes her as the type to do her homework.

Instead she nods, mustering the strength to fight through the weariness, as she always does, as she always will. “It’s settled, then. You can get in touch with Copley for details about where we are, just make sure to let us know when you’ll be arriving.” She pauses, gives Jason a long look. There’s nothing like the flash of dizzying recognition that she felt when she first met his eyes, but instead, there’s a sort of respectful - if still somewhat wary - understanding. Eventually, she gives a small smile and stands, dipping her head to him. 

“It was good to meet you, kid. You’re a hell of a fighter.” He blushes, looking away, and she knows he understands that she wasn’t talking about his skill in combat (which she hasn’t yet seen, anyways).

Without prompting, her team follows her out, flanking her automatically, and despite the weariness that goes down to her bones, with them here everything _almost_ feels right, almost feels like this is the way things should be. 

But the empty spaces where there should be another - _two others, Booker and - well, two others, she doesn’t get the luxury of forgetting that, no matter how it hurts_ \- still call to her. Andromache of Scythia - oldest woman on earth, last survivor of an empire nearly two millennia in the ground - has so much unfinished business. She has so very little time left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS for discussion of political upheaval, mental illness and treatment thereof, and eating disorders.
> 
> I don't usually do end notes, but I wanted to fill y'all in on what's been happening in my life recently, and what's going to be happening going forward. This chapter is coming out so long after the last one in part because my country (I'm from the US, unfortunately), has been a disaster lately. However, things have recently been looking up, and I was finally able to scrape enough of my brain together to write.
> 
> However. I have spent the past few years struggling with some pretty severe mental illness. This includes an eating disorder, which I'm now seeking treatment for. This means that I'll soon be stepping away from outpatient treatment in favor of a higher level of care, which is going to be taking up a lot of my time and energy going forward. Yay.
> 
> I tell you this for a few reasons. I wanted to explain where I've been, and why updates are likely to continue being infrequent in the future (I will continue writing, but it's not my top priority at the moment.) But mostly, I'm telling you this because I wish I had learned earlier that mental illness was common, and treatable, and not something to be ashamed of. That I wasn't alone in my experiences and didn't have to be alone in my recovery. So I'm trying to offer what transparency I can about my experiences, in the hope that it might help someone. If you're dealing with mental illness, no matter how severe, reach out. Seek treatment if you can. Seek support from those you love. It's not wrong to be hurting, but you also don't have to accept living that way. Take care of yourselves, okay? You're worth it.


End file.
